Surfacing
by Adia from UK
Summary: Rewrite of an old fic. BA. In the aftermath of “Grave”, Buffy takes Willow to Los Angeles and discovers that Angel has mysteriously disappeared.


DISCLAIMER: Me? A lowly university student from across the pond, claiming to own BTVS? Think it over :)  
COUPLING: Buffy and Angel, baby! Eventually. References to C/A.  
SETTING: After "Grave" and "Tomorrow".

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I've given this story a lick of paint and dusted down the skirting boards. This version will still be a working version though, so any and all critique would be much appreciated :) 

SUMMARY: In the aftermath of "Grave", Buffy takes Willow to Los Angeles and discovers that Angel has mysteriously disappeared. 

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Chapter One.

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Everybody hurts...sometimes

-- REM

Willow wasn't innocent anymore.

She looked it, though, when she was asleep. Wrapped up in the comfort of Buffy's bed, she looked like a fragile angel. Buffy would watch her and wonder...how could someone change so much, so suddenly? Barely a week ago, Willow had been the happiest she'd known -- back with Tara, off the magick -- and now she was recovering from arguably the worst case of wagon-falling in the history of junkies. 

And Tara was dead.

Dead. Buffy had nearly forgotten how it felt to be on this side of loss, nearly forgotten how empty it left the survivors. Knowing that Tara was at peace, in some Wiccan wonderland of an afterlife, didn't comfort her as she thought it should. Tara's death had been too violent, sudden, unfair, and the fallout too great a cost. 

Five days. Was that all? It felt longer. The worst wasn't over -- Willow could still remember the pungent smell of Warren's skin, feel Tara's life-force drain into the bedroom carpet, on her fingers -- and it would take a long time for these memories to stop haunting her. 

Soon would come the elusive search for redemption that Buffy knew would carry Willow to her grave. Was she strong enough for that upward climb, knowing there would never be a final destination, no end to her suffering, except the sweet release of death? Five days, and Willow was hurting so badly that Buffy wanted to scream with the injustice of it. 

Giles had been talking to the Wiccan Covern again. They wanted to take Willow to England and teach her how to control her powers. At least, that was what they were claiming. Despite Giles's good intentions, Buffy couldn't help but be skeptical of their motives. Willow was arguably one of the most powerful witches on the planet. In the aftermath of what happened on the Bluff, would they really be that compassionate toward her? Or did they have something more sinister planned? 

Buffy kissed Willow's forehead and quietly left the broken girl to her dreams.

There had to be another way, and Buffy was determined to find it. 

----@ 

Buffy stared at the phone for several moments before picking it up. She'd been through this ritual a couple of times already that day, always faltering at the dialing tone. This time, she made the point of punching in the number and standing far away from the disconnection button.

A man answered on the tenth ring. She didn't recognize the voice.

"Angel Investigations, right?" Buffy demanded, twirling the cord around her fingers. "I need your services. Kinda now."

"You lookin' for someone to scrub behind your demon's ears with a real sharp axe, this ain't your place," the man replied bitterly. "A.I.'s down for the count. Mortician's drawn up paperwork and everything." 

"Down?" Buffy repeated, confused. "You mean, out of order? Why? -- Put me onto Angel." 

"Think he'll say different?" The man sounded amused rather than irritated. "Actually, he would," he quickly conceded, "if he were here. Which he's not. So he can't. Real sorry 'bout that."

The jagged tone of his voice made Buffy's insides freeze up. "I don't understand," she said slowly, her own voice trembling slightly. "Is he...in danger?" 

The pause on the other end of the phone seemed to span forever. Tell me he's fine, she pleaded into the receiver. My friend was murdered two weeks ago, and my other friend tried to destroy the world; if you carve another hole in my heart I'll crumble to ash on this carpet. 

"You know Angel personally?" he said, finally speaking.

Buffy nodded violently, and then remembered he couldn't see her. "Yes," she breathed anxiously. "I'm Buffy -- Buffy Summers."

She heard him digest this information. "Charles Gunn," he answered, and now his voice was softer. "Nice to finally...hear you. Angel's told me – actually, not much. You're the resurrected Slayer from last year, right?" 

"That's what it says on my driver's license," Buffy said tightly. Now was not the time for small talk but dancing panic, and her partner hadn't bothered to learn the steps. "Have you ever met a hysterical woman, Charles Gunn? 'cos if you don't tell me what happened to Angel in the next five seconds, I'll go hysterical on your ass with a machete. Understand?"

"Like crystal in a glasshouse," he assured her, unruffled by the threat. "Truth is, we don't know where Angel is. They've been gone a month -- me and Fred've looked, but if this is a game of hide and seek, no one's told _them_ it's over. I'm mad with worry," he admitted, sighing deeply. "We've never gone this long without contact before." 

It seemed to Buffy that someone had reached into her stomach and squeezed the contents into mush. She stared blankly out the window for several moments, watching the shining normality of the street. 

A world without Angel...Buffy furiously flicked the thought away, but the acid image had already burned itself in her mind. A cold, lonely world without Angel.... 

No! You're a _moron_ if you think he's dead, Summers, she lectured herself angrily. He's disappeared before and come back again -- why should this time be any different?

A month, she moaned anxiously. And I never knew!

"Them?" she asked Gunn, and the word was now plural. "Who else is missing?"

"Connor and Cordelia," he said. "We don't know about Connor, but Cordelia and Angel did a joint disappearing act. They disappeared after they went to the beach."

"Why? Were they on a case?"

"Sure -- if you call declaring their undying love a case," Gunn said. 

Angel and Cordelia? _Love?_ Buffy gripped the counter, not trusting her legs to take the weight. "Were they dating?" With more important questions swirling around Buffy's mind, she didn't know why this one bubbled to the surface first.

He hesitated, finally recognizing the strained female voice on the other end of the line as Angel's ex. "I can't tell you that," Gunn said at last. He sounded sympathetic, but only slightly -- Buffy was still a stranger, and Cordelia his friend. "You'll have to ask him."

Buffy didn't respond. Her thoughts had drifted back three years to a certain sewer talk -- and Angel subjecting her to a graphic presentation on why he never wanted to date her again. "_I'm leaving so you can live in the light_ indeed," she murmured bitterly. "You liar. You two-faced hypocrite."

"Buffy? You need a therapist? 'cos we only deal with demon extermination here. Granted, not so much right now – 'less you can help us meet our quota?"

"You want me down there?" Buffy wasn't surprised, but she still had Willow to look after. She sighed reluctantly. "Not really a free window in Buffy's personal planner."

"The Slayer says no?" Gunn said incredulously. "Must have missed the bulletin where you stopped helping people --"

"I _want_ to help," Buffy cried, pacing the room, "God, I want to leave right now, but it's not that simple! I've got responsibilities, people need me...." 

What about Angel? a voice demanded. Doesn't he? 

Buffy's mouth set in determination. "I'll come," she said. "But I'm bringing a friend."

"Bring the entire town if you want," Gunn said smoothly. "Knowing you're on the case'll make me breathe easier tonight. We were close to giving up."

"I'm menthol all right," Buffy murmured heavily. "Gunn?"

"Yeah?"

"Who's Connor?"

Gunn swore. "You don't know."

Buffy remembered being introduced to a dark-haired Irish guy once, but she had thought his name was Doyle.

"Connor," Gunn began, and he sounded serious, "is Angel's teenage son."

She snorted. "Yeah, and I'm Miss California."

"Then I'm sorry I missed the crowning ceremony -- it's true, Buffy. Angel's a father."

It felt like someone had hit her with a baseball bat -- Buffy almost doubled over with the pain. Her knees buckled from under her and she half fell, half staggered to the ground, still holding the receiver in her hand. A low throaty laugh escaped her mouth, which she coughed up on the vinyl like vomit. Angel, with a child? Without her? The idea was so alien, her body just wanted to reject it....

Gunn explained, but Buffy barely registered the details. It didn't matter when, or how, or with who -- it mattered that it _had_. Darla...Holtz...Wesley...and all she could think about was his chocolate brown eyes, and how she might never see them again.

She was alone. Truly alone. 

"Buffy?" Gunn's level voice demanded, after some time had passed. "You listening?" 

"Yes." Buffy heaved herself to her feet and leaned against the wall. With her emotions in overload, she felt close to exploding. "When I find Angel," she said slowly and carefully, forcing a calmness she didn't feel, "I'm going to feed him to Willow's cat."

"Just make sure you find him," Gunn responded.

****

To Be Continued


End file.
